Triple Threat (Deception Duet 1)

I swear, this kid is the devil.

Ignoring her taunting, I pull out my phone and go on a hunt for insults in ASL. Not so surprisingly—because that’s how our world is—I find a whole bunch of links with information and a YouTube video. It takes about five minutes until I learn she called me a dummy.

“Dummy?” I say, mimicking the sign back to her.

Her smile is victorious, and she nods. Then she signs, You.

I learn how to sign the word brat and make sure to say it too, enunciating so she doesn’t misunderstand. Once again, I swear I got the most difficult job of the three of us. Sparrow gets to pretend to be a college student and Scout does whatever it is that Scout does.

Meanwhile, I’m over here having to learn a goddamn new language.

And babysit a monster.

Said monster beams at me and points toward something flashing by. Then she signs, cat.

If Della is the devil, then Heathen is her mascot. They’re both rotten to the core. And my dumb ass somehow got roped into bringing this damn cat with me every time now because the cat is good for the children.

For fuck’s sake.

“Focus, kid,” I grind out. “You’re supposed to be learning.”

She giggles and shakes her head before giving me that sign again. This time I know what it means. Dummy.

“You’re an asshole, you know that right?” I mumble under my breath.

Della’s nose scrunches, confusion dancing over her features. It’s a reminder why I’m here. To try and improve her lipreading skills. I really suck at this job. It’s only a matter of time before this kid tattles to her daddy that I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.

And that’s only one part of this dumb job. I’m still supposed to somehow creep around and find information for Bryant. I don’t know what he expects me to do. Sneak into the dude’s office and peek at files? Good luck with that shit. No one is getting in there unless he allows it. Spy on his conversations? Pick locked doors to see what skeletons are hiding? I’m conveniently avoiding this whole super sleuth aspect. It’s not like Bryant will ever really know for sure.

“Be serious,” I say in a stern tone, making sure to make clear movements with my mouth. “Focus.”

She stabs a finger at my forearm, nailing me right in one of the spots Heathen shredded this afternoon when I tried to get her into her travel kennel. I glare at the evil little girl. The delight on her face reminds me of Scout anytime he’d torment someone when we were younger.

Twisted psychos.

“Everything going okay in here?” a voice asks from the doorway.

I snap my head to find Landry slowly making her way into the room. There’s a soft expression on her face that I haven’t seen before. With the sun streaming in through the windows and blanketing her creamy features, she’s almost angelic. Her hair shimmers, catching each ray of light and reflecting it back my way.

Find out who the fuck hit Landry.

Sparrow’s text from earlier burns its way into my mind. What kind of dick hurts someone who looks like Landry does? Flawless and innocent. But they did and the slight bluish bruising hidden under layers of makeup proves it.

But who would do this?

I’ve researched and read all about her father. He’s your typical arrogant rich guy, but I don’t get child abuser vibes from him.

Child?

Landry is anything but a child.

Maybe this is the dirty secret Bryant wanted me to expose. I can try to get information from the girls. I’ll have to be careful. I don’t know if this guy has the rooms bugged or not. I’m probably being paranoid as fuck, but I suddenly have the heebie jeebies.

Landry signs something to Della. I miss their entire exchange, not able to keep up with the rapid conversation. Finally, Landry laughs, the sound almost surprised.

“What?” I grumble.

“Nothing.” Landry’s skin flushes. “I just didn’t expect that.”

I frown at her. “Expect what?”

“For Della to, um, like you.”

“Wow. Thanks, honey. Way to stroke my ego.”

She cocks her head to the side, the golden strands of her hair sliding over her still-pink neck. I have the urge to push aside her hair and slide my thumb over the pulsing vein there.

“Sorry about earlier,” she says, pausing to nibble on the inside corner of her lip. “I was being a bitch.”

Sparrow didn’t say anything about her being a bitch. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all aside from the fact he wanted us to find out who hit her. It looks like it’s up to me to get to the bottom of this since I can’t rely on his shitty intel. At least my job has a little more purpose than before. This is something I can get behind, because, dammit, I don’t want that fucker hitting her. I’m going to get her to confide in me through whatever means necessary.